


Love On The Brain - Kylo Ren/Ben Solo x Reader

by charredmountain



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, Fanfiction, Jedi, Jedi Ben Solo, Lightsabers, Reader-Insert, Romance, The Force, Training, non Canon, x Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25264789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charredmountain/pseuds/charredmountain
Summary: Stranded and disorientated by a near fatal crash, you are rescued by a mysterious Jedi apprentice who's adamant on figuring out your identity, but unfortunately for him, so are you.
Relationships: Ben Solo/Reader, Ben Solo/You, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Kudos: 8





	1. Crash and Burn

Vines sway from the canopy above, a torrent of beams worm past the cracks between intertwined leaves. Disorientated, you grasp at the bushes cradling your head with bloodied fingers. Croaky pants dissipate into the breeze as you hoist yourself onto your elbows, complexion going pallid at the remnants of a pool of crimson drenching your torso.

You curse at your first attempt to stagger onto your feet, your body opting for slinking over a thick fallen branch to support your backside as you slide back onto the ground with seething teeth. Feebly shrugging off your hefty jacket, you draw shallow breaths; tuning your ears to the melodic chirping of sparrows before catching a pattern of steps a lengths away.

Cringing at the hoarseness of your voice, you settle for stumping your legs into cocoa dirt to direct attention to you, barely avoiding the particles that spew up from the collisions A beacon of sharp sapphire whizzes as the footsteps inches closer, the foliage gives way to a figure wrapped in a glaring silver haze, topped with a mop of coal. Your vision blurs at the sight, the numbing pain leaves your nerves in a constant state of panic, inducing fatigue.

\--

Trinkets chime against the simmering gusts, carried by turbulent waves clambering onto the shore. The scent of potent spices float in a cloud of slithering steam emanating from a hastily crafted wooden bowl with remnants of splinters still poking from each odd crevice. You latch onto the sensation of each rise and fall of your chest, how your breaths spiral and mingle with the surrounding environment and the array of creatures that inhabit it.

A benign palm reposes on your forearm, flitting between tracing your veins and checking your pulse. You shudder at the touch, eyebrows knitted together in concentration to allow the intrusive light into your lids. Your searing gaze shifts to the tight bandages encompassing your frame and gasp at the velvet hue dampening the center. The hand withdraws with an audible intake of breath.

A teenage boy stumbles out of his stool, retreating out of your proximity; his chin length inky locks shrouds his rosy cheeks and frames his troubled expression. Your gaze wanders in search of that warm touch that once cradled your knuckles, only to once again find a wary set of umber orbs intently observing your actions.

"How did you find us?" He whispers, words merely spilling from his lips like a soft blow on a chilly silent night. You struggle to find words as you rack your brain for an answer-anything at all. There's just a blood curdling emptiness, no figments of memory, just a stiff blank canvas.

At your prolonged silence, his gaze hardens, voice frigid and alarmed as he presses for a response.

"How?"

His fingers graze over the activation plate of a metallic device while his agitated orbs pose another question. Each syllable echos between the walls of your mind without him physically directing his voice, occupying your thoughts in its entirety as you grasp onto the crown of your head.

_**Who are you?** _


	2. Rocky Beginnings

"Please, I swear I don't know anything"

You hitch out raspy breaths until he gradually releases the pressure from probing your mind, furrowed brows drawn in confusion. You begin to hurriedly slink away from him, back sharply colliding against the wall while you grit your teeth at the scorching pain that shoots up from your desperate movements.

He visibly tenses at your accumulating fear being projected in his brain and plunks his light saber into his beige sash as his guarded gaze slightly falters.

"I won't hurt you, just trust me"

You send a skeptical glance at his palm extending towards your own but don't make any moves to evade his advances as he gently grips the expanse of your hand, eyes slipping closed in concentration. You barely notice how calloused fingers soothe your skin-was he _comforting_ you?

At the mere contact, a stream of uncertainty engulfs your senses without a warning. Your vision blurs into nebulous images: bursting planets encapsulated in a gold halo; debris mingling with the dim stars, hues of velvet and azure clashing against each other for victory, leaving a flurry of sparks in its wake and a lone boy on a distant hill overlooking the sweeping tides.

His abrupt withdrawal snaps you back to your surroundings as he stares at you with as much scrutiny as humanly possible.

"What was that?" You splutter, the visions still raw in your memory. He raises a brow at your vocal outburst, not quite following.

"For a second, I saw destruction and felt emotions I don't even have. I was-"

"Conflicted about something?"

You nod hesitantly at his calculating gaze and stiff scowl as he ponders something in the bare silence.

"Stay here"

He wordlessly yet hurriedly withdraws, motioning his hands to the robs obscuring his exit to abruptly propel it against the wall and swiftly darts to his left, worn boots crushing wilted amber leaves. The curtain stretches back in relief at the sudden pressure dissipating, audibly sighing with a slight shake.

You palm your injuries with a heavy wince before scanning the room for any sense of distraction, from the makeshift door, the muddied floor, the misty view of vegetation, the bed you're awkwardly reposing on to avoid contact with any wounds to a cabinet haphazardly cluttered.

Your gaze loiters around a framed photo, capturing a fond memory of familial felicity with the boy's mother tenderly planting a kiss on his cheek with closed lids while his father ruffles his hair with a coiled fist, toothy smile and eyes crinkled with infectious goofiness. Their beaming emotions instills a faint warmth, the kind that invites a subconscious grin.

A titan of an ashen vessel figurine casts an overbearing shadow, its stature composing of a spherical body which extends into two protruding edges. You scrutinize each detail, the whole concept of this 'ship' seeming so tangibly familiar yet so alarmingly distant, until your gaze is abruptly enveloped by a ray of sunlight as the amber star starts to gradually submerge below the horizon.

The soft beam catches a piercing glint which you unwittingly squint your eyes for a more focused look, fixated on that golden chain dangling two dices with mystifying engraved markings, it's hidden significance compelling you to wander towards it with curious fingers.

Approaching footsteps freezes you in your tracks as you abandon the dice in favor of settling onto the bed just like how he left you. The familiar face pops from the cloth before shuffling in, he shifts his feet uncomfortably, shooting a frown.

"I'll be taking you in as an apprentice"


	3. The Forest Trial

The whole recovery procedure was difficult to say the least, after all you were strictly prohibited from leaving the premises let alone depart from the confines of your bed. The muggy climate summoned beads of sweat to uncomfortably dampen your clothing as a wake up call while you groan at your sleepy roommate/caretaker who would fiercely glower before sluggishly fetching water.

There were days of him awkwardly tending to your wounds, his cheeks flushed with discomfiture as he would attempt to uncoil the bandages without any contact with your skin or having his gaze stray from your stomach, but despite his timid demeanor, you could sometimes catch a ghost of a smile when you initiate small talk, anything to distract yourself from the well acquainted silence.

So finally, after having spent days bedridden and mostly in solitude, you finally reached a state where your new master-which he quite smugly insisted you address him as-Ben Solo was satisfied with to begin your training.

You set out into the outskirts of the forest, just shy away from your crash site, in a spacious clearing enveloped by thick umber trunks framed by lush tendrils swaying overhead. Copious streams of mist cascade over the foliage, trickling from the curved vines down to the dirt ground.

Ben chucks a sturdy staff your way while he fiddles with his, leaving you time to investigate the weapon. Freshly crafted-its light oak hue yet to be worn off in time, the hollow center allows for its feathery weight as it slices through air with delicate ease. You sneak an uneasy glance, to which he raises a brow to.

"Why are you training me?"

He gives a snort, averting his attention to the manner in which he holds his staff as he simulates different attack maneuvers.

"Master Skywalker believes in my capability and figured it's a good opportunity for me to advance my own training and for you to have a slight chance of survival" He approaches your proximity as he single-handedly swings his weapon around with calculated precision as it undulates around his frame, the sheer velocity and force eliciting minuscule gusts of wind.

"Plus, don't you trust me?" He slyly remarks, unable to resist that taunting smirk as he starts wielding the staff in a ferocious circle with finesse until he jabs it in your direction, millimetres from the bridge of your nose as you flinch with a startled scream, successfully wiping off your scowl.

It's like he's manifested into another character when he fights, all that awkwardness and uncertainty slipping from his form as he now drips _arrogance_ like a broken facet. His hazel orbs once evasive and gentle were now pin point focused and searingly intense as his attention never wavers from your form, taking mental cues at each action you exhibit.

"Attack me"

You hope your facial expressions informs him of your lack of expertise on _how_ exactly to do that but he doesn't budge, he just maintains his stance, offering his slight head tilt as encouragement.

Huffing at his conduct, you shift your legs into motion as you slam your staff onto his before withdrawing as it serves no purpose.

"Just keep going, don't stop"

You build up momentum and charge against his head-to which he simply steps aside to avoid-before quickly redirecting to another random place just to land any form of blow on him, but your fervent and bashful movements are deflected by his firm and concentrated defense, like a lone boulder steady against the raging unrelenting tides.

Sensing your increased courage he starts to shift into an offensive stance. You direct your staff onto his open side as he blocks, this time pushing you back with purposeful force. You stagger back with heaved breaths as he targets your shoulder with a pace that allows you to parry-clumsily so. He continues in his ambush, indirectly teaching you crucial points to strike at as he ramps up the momentum.

Agitated by the sudden shift in power dynamic, you lose you footing, colliding your back to the ground, coughing at the inhaled dirt as you squint at the looming figure that teases that godforsaken staff in your face before launching his palm towards your disheveled form caked in dust.

"You're improving, if only a little bit" He snarks, his orbs lightly jesting yet aglow with sincere pride that sprouts a wave of butterflies to prance around in your stomach.

"Thank you?" You grit out as you reluctantly clasp onto his grip to return to your feet.

He abruptly gives a firm tap on your legs, applying pressure on the joint to simulate you falling but withdraws before following through, instead he nudges your feet wide apart and uses the staff to make your knees bend.

"A wide stance and bent knees allows for better mobility and balance"

His hand slides yours a little further apart to either ends of your staff to readjust your grip before gently squeezing as he notices your trembling fingers from the exertion.

"Better"

He further registers your exhausted state: slouched shoulders, panting lips, drooping eyelids and face glistening with evidence of your labor. Shooting a soft smile, he starts sauntering back to base and calls from over his shoulder.

"That's all for today"


End file.
